Ziska eBook

“Not a very cheerful corner, is it? Some
of these places are regular holes, don’cher
know; but I daresay it’s all right inside.”

“You have never been inside?”

“Never.” And Fulkeward lowered his
voice: “Look up there; there’s the
beast that keeps everybody out!”

Gervase followed his glance, and perceived behind
the projecting carved lattice-work of one of the windows
a dark, wrinkled face and two gleaming eyes which,
even at that distance, had, or appeared to have, a
somewhat sinister expression.

“He’s the nastiest type of Nubian I have
ever seen,” pursued Fulkeward. “Looks
just like a galvanized corpse.”

Gervase smiled, and perceiving a long bell-handle
at the gateway, pulled it sharply. In another
moment the Nubian appeared, his aspect fully justifying
Lord Fulkeward’s description of him. The
parchment-like skin on his face was yellowish-black,
and wrinkled in a thousand places; his lips were of
a livid blue, and were drawn up and down above and
below the teeth in a kind of fixed grin, while the
dense brilliance of his eyes was so fierce and fiery
as to suggest those of some savage beast athirst for
prey.

“Madame la Princesse Ziska” began Gervase,
addressing his unfascinating object with apparent
indifference to his hideousness.

Fulkeward gave a resigned shrug of his shoulders;
Gervase looked round at him ere he crossed the threshold
of the mysterious habitation.

“I’m sorry you have to walk back alone.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Fulkeward
affably. “You see, you have come on business.
You’re going to paint the Princess’s picture;
and I daresay this blessed old rascal knows that I
want nothing except to look at his mistress and wonder
what she’s made of.”

“What she’s made of?” echoed Gervase
in surprise. “Don’t you think she’s
made like other women?”

“No; can’t say I do. She seems all
fire and vapor and eyes in the middle, don’cher
know. Oh, I’m an ass—­always was—­but
that’s the feeling she gives me. Ta-ta!
Wish you a pleasant morning!”

He nodded and strolled away, and Gervase hesitated
yet another moment, looking full at the Nubian, who
returned him stare for stare.

“Maintenant?” he began.

“Oui, maintenant” echoed the Nubian.

“La Princesse, ou est elle?”

“La!” and the Nubian pointed down a long,
dark passage beyond which there seemed to be the glimmer
of green palms and other foliage. “Elle
vous attend, Monsieur Armand Gervase! Entrez!
Suivez!”

Slowly Gervase passed in, and the great tomb-like
door closed upon him with a heavy clang. The
whole long, bright day passed, and he did not reappear;
not a human foot crossed the lonely street and nothing
was seen there all through the warm sunshiny hours
save the long, black shadows on the pavement, which
grew longer and darker as the evening fell.